It’s easier to write poetry about dead things

because I can tell myself I’m breathing
new life into them.

Instead of sacrificing that which is already breathing
at the altar of the static image.

But my images aren’t static. If you put down
a book of my poems, it will be empty

when you come back. The words so full of
life they ran right off the page, marching

through your house, breaking windows
and setting little fires in your shoes.

You know what they say;
you can never read the same poem twice.

I read that in a poem once, and when I read it again
it said the same thing.

I could say If I find some petunias in the wild
cut them from their roots, and give them to you

we call that romance 
but it’s a trite criticism.

Whoever we is, we know
that the real love is in the after.

Is in the you putting water in a vase
trying—for a short time—

to keep alive
these dead things you’ve been handed.

DT McCrea (they/she) is a trans-anarchist poet. They love the NBA, know the lyrics to every Saintseneca song, and have a love hate relationship with philosophy. Her work can be found in Gordon Square Review, Honey & Lime, Flypaper, mutiny!, and on her website at https://dtmccrea.wordpress.com/. Follow them on twitter @dt_mccrea